


No Bromo

by JustAPassingGlance



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2013 [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAPassingGlance/pseuds/JustAPassingGlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Blaine and Sebastian are the bro-iest of bros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Bromo

There were several very important things to know about Blaine-and-Sebastian.

Blaine was not a Sigma, no matter how many chapter meetings he happened to be at or how many times Trent absently insisted he needed to pay his dues. Additionally, he wasn’t officially a cheerleader, although he did have his own set of pom poms and knew all of the lacrosse cheers and occasionally swung by their practice when they were learning new moves for the upcoming lacrosse championship.

Likewise, Sebastian had never really auditioned for the Warblers. He had just started showing up to rehearsal one day and annoyingly critiqued their choreography until he was allowed to do it himself. And he wasn’t a member of the fencing team, even if he had been at more practices than half of the épée squad.

They also hadn’t been friends forever. Or anywhere close to it.

(They had first met the second day of orientation. Sebastian and his roommate, Hunter, were in line for steak and cheese when Blaine had slid into the gap in front of them.

“Hey!”

Blaine whirled around to be faced with Sebastian’s stony glare and Hunter’s scowling expression.

“I don’t know how things work wherever you’re from. But here we go to the end of the line.” Hunter snapped.

“Oh!” Blaine flushed bright red. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I mean…” He gestured hopelessly at the gap between the two of them and the next person in line. An awkward silence stretched between the three of them. “I really am very sorry,” he reiterated before scurrying away.

After that Sebastian kept running into him all over. First in the gym, then while searching out his classes, and finally at the bookstore while standing in the never ending checkout line.

“This line is taking for. _ev_.er,” another freshman huffed.

“Yeah,” her friend had said. “I’m not even going to fucking use most of these.”

The rest of the group murmured their agreement and were soon stepping out of line and dumping their textbooks on the nearest available surface. With a sigh of relief, Sebastian moved forward. Their inane chattering had been giving him a migraine.

And there, right in front of him, was that absolutely sinful ass he couldn’t forget if he tried. This time clad in red pants that left little to the imagination.

“Didn’t think I’d have a stalker this early on,” Sebastian whispered smoothly into Blaine’s ear.

Blaine jumped about a foot in the air, nearly dropping his books and causing his shoulder to ram firmly into Sebastian’s chin.

“Shit,” Sebastian swore as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

Blaine’s eyes widened to the size of small saucers and he looked frenetically apologetic. “Did I hurt you? Oh god, I’m so sorry. Again,” he added frantically.

“’M ‘ine,” Sebastian dismissed him with a wave of his elbow. “’ust ‘it my tongue.”

Blaine then spent the next 30 minutes apologizing before insisting he buy Sebastian lunch to make up for it.

“Fine,” Sebastian agreed a little reluctantly when he realized Blaine wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I just want to drop these damn books off at my room first.” He heaved up the overflowing bags demonstratively.

On the walk back to Sebastian’s dorm, which was inconveniently located almost clear across campus, they discovered a mutual love for old Hollywood and good beer. By the time they made it to Ludlow they had completely forgotten about their lunch plans and instead immersed themselves in Sebastian’s guilty-pleasure Harrison Ford dvd collection. Around Last Crusade they remembered they were hungry and ordered a pizza. And it wasn’t until nine hours later, when Hunter walked in bitching about the fact that Sebastian was supposed to have met him at a party and hadn’t responded to any of his calls or texts, that they realized they had spent their first Friday night of college eating popcorn and watching movies instead of going out.)

Finally, and most importantly, they weren’t dating.

No matter what the entire staff of Mon Ami thought. It wasn’t Sebastian’s fault that he had a biweekly craving for authentic French food and Blaine was the only one of his friends willing to indulge him. Nor was it his fault that 8 on Wednesday night was the only time he had available for dining. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that the atmosphere of Mon Ami called less for jeans and a pullover and more for, at the very least a sports coat.

Just because it was the hot spots for in-the-know couples on their first dates (and the subsequent anniversaries) didn’t mean that he and Blaine couldn’t enjoy it purely on cuisine based merits.

It was just an added benefit that they got free dessert once a year on what the wait staff had arbitrarily decided was their anniversary. At first Blaine had refused to eat his because he hadn’t wanted to accept it under false pretences. ‘It’s not a false pretense if we tell them every time we’re here that we’re not together,’ Sebastian had said around his mouthful, his fork halfway to Blaine’s untouched plate.

And that, really, was all you needed to know about them.

* * *

Of course, one could be forgiven for thinking that they were dating based on the fact that they were, rather shamelessly and quite frequently (and sometimes very loudly), sleeping together.

* * *

Also, Blaine was banned from the athletic locker room. Which isn’t important for you to know. But is important that he remember. Because Coach was continuously getting exasperated at the number of times he and Sebastian managed to forget.

In Blaine’s defense, it was really hard remembering anything when Sebastian was sending him texts  _like that_. And they always waited until the rest of the team had left.

Sebastian never bothered with defenses. He just really liked having sex right after winning a game. Motivation, he called it, in a way that suggested he didn’t really care what it was called so long as Watkins left them alone.

* * *

There were rules for their arrangement, as dictated to Blaine by an almost entirely naked Sebastian after the second time they had woken up entwined with each other.

“Rule number one,” said with one accusing finger held up, “exclusivity is for chicks. Rule number two, no bare feet. And rule number three, I never, ever want to hear you pissing in my bathroom.”

“Fine,” he nodded, searching the floor for his socks so he could get out of bed. He had been friends with Sebastian long enough to know that somehow, in his tragically confused mind, all those things somehow equaled a relationship. “Rule number four,” he added, feeling like he should contribute something, “no sleeping with anyone else within 12 hours of being with me.”

Sebastian quirked his eyebrow.

Blaine stared back. He wasn’t against having such a casual relationship, even if he never thought he would be in one. Sebastian could sleep with whoever he wanted but that didn’t mean he wanted him to roll out of Blaine’s bed directly into someone else’s.

“Okay,” Sebastian agreed with a sigh. “Unless we’re in an orgy.”

“We won’t be in an orgy.”

“Threesome?” He asked hopefully with a smile that was pretending to be innocent.

Blaine rolled his eyes.

* * *

Rules number 1 and 4 were easy enough to keep. Blaine kept up his casual coffee dates in hopes of finding his soul mate and once every fortnight Sebastian found himself slinking from a theatre geeks bed or out of Theta’s house at four in the morning.

Rule two was solved by keeping an excess of socks in a crate under the bed. Originally Blaine had the blue one and Sebastian the grey, but after a month they became all mixed up and instead of sorting through they just grabbed whichever two were closest and padded their way to the bathroom where Sebastian’s engineering friend had rigged up a system that started an old CD player whenever the door was closed.

Sebastian kept meaning to change the CD because, after a year, he was developing a Pavlovian urge to pee every time he heard Fool in the Rain.  

* * *

When they started sleeping together they were the only people who were surprised by it.

Sure, Blaine had flushed excessively every time Sebastian unabashedly hit on him for the first four months of their friendship. And Sebastian absolutely never passed up on opportunity to gratuitously compliment Blaine’s pert backside.

But between Blaine moping over his break up with his high school sweetheart and Sebastian’s flighty attraction to basically any guy wearing a Greek letter or tight fitting jeans, neither of them had thought about the possibility of actually sleeping together until it was already happening.

But there it was.

Sebastian drunkenly stumbling into Blaine’s dorm room, because it was a hell of a lot closer than his. And Blaine, who thought he had the room to himself since his roommate had gone home for the weekend, sprawled out on his bed, laptop screen flickering from his desk and hand wrapped firmly around his dick.

A normal person might hurriedly back out of the room, pausing only to send an apologetic text before rushing away in embarrassment. A drunken Sebastian, on the other hand, stumbled his way over the bed and, before either of them quite knew what was happening, his mouth was replacing Blaine’s hand. And about ten minutes later Blaine, whose head might have been fighting a stream of alarm and bewilderment but had been raised with impeccable manners, returned the favor.

They had fallen asleep in a mildly confused, orgasm-induced haze.

But, as Blaine’s father had told him as they packed the car up for his freshman year, the important thing about college was that every experience was a learning experience. And what Blaine learned was that if you had a best-friend-who-thinks-of-sex-as-a-really-casual-thing-that-just-happens, they really were the best person to randomly hookup with. Because somehow it wasn’t awkward at all.

It wasn’t like they had never woken up in a bed together. Just this time when they woke up neither of them were wearing pants, leaving Blaine’s exposed dick pressed up against Sebastian’s equally naked thigh, and both were unpleasantly covered in dried semen.

However, Blaine didn’t have to awkwardly stutter out that this really, really wasn’t something he normally did. Not that he wouldn’t. Or that there was anything wrong with it. Just that he, personally, didn’t. Because Sebastian knew that the closest Blaine had ever come to a one-night stand was almost getting a hand job in the frisbee house which lead to a two hour drunken breakdown brought on by the fact that the only thing Blaine knew about the other boy was that he had a pierced tongue and tasted like bourbon and butterscotch.

So instead of going through all of that they just looked at each other and, after a long moment, Sebastian nonchalantly said, ‘Best night I’ve had in a while,’ as he stared down the cactus on the desk.

“Me too,” Blaine blushingly agreed.

“Good.”

“Good.”

Then Sebastian rolled off the bed, completely naked and halfheartedly kicked at the pile of clothes on the floor. “Have you seen my pants?”

* * *

Mostly, they would describe their relationship as putting up with the other.

Like during senior fall, following the blackout blur that was Halloween. Blaine had spent the first week of November in the library, having neglected a lot of his schoolwork during the end of October. Finally he made it back to Sigma, goaded on by a series of texts from Hunter, complaining about how Sebastian was getting moodier and moodier.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, pretending to study when Blaine walked in. Immediately, his head snapped up and a smile began tugging at the corner of his lips.

Blaine, however, had stopped dead in his tracks.

 “You’re… bearded,” Blaine said diplomatically. “It looks…” he bit his lip as he took in the frazzled, patchy whiskers half-heartedly trying to take over Sebastian’s face.. “It looks,” he concluded.

“Devastatingly attractive?” Sebastian suggested with an over vigorous eyebrow waggle.

Blaine offered his best supporting smile. “Is this… permanent?” He really hoped it wasn’t, although he thought he might be able to get used to it. Maybe. Eventually.

“It’s for Movember, you ass.” Sebastian threw a pillow at his face. “We’re all doing it. If you think this is pathetic, you should see Trent,” he laughed. “He wanted to get a head start so he began almost two weeks ago. If you squint you can almost see a five o’clock shadow.”

“But why?” Blaine asked, still bewildered. In the years since he had known the Sigmas he had been witness to no shortage of ridiculous schemes. And, he reluctantly admitted to himself, this one, at least, had a very low chance of arrest.

“Fundraiser,” Sebastian bemoaned. “We have to take daily pictures and then we’re filming the shaving.”

Kicking off his shoes, Blaine crawled onto the bed to inspect it closer. Gently he cupped Sebastian’s face and traced the outline of his jaw with his fingers. The bristles scratched, not entirely unpleasantly, against the pad of his fingers.

“Hnnh,” Blaine breathed out. “Don’t expect me to donate though.” He pulled back. “I’m not paying for you to have that thing on your face.”

“Whoever raises the most gets to shave first.” This had been Sebastian’s idea and he was rather proud of it. Anything to keep them from having another gift-wrapping drive. While Hunter might have a lot of vision and theoretically good ideas he often failed to take into consideration the smaller details such as the fact that 20+ college boys were probably the last  people someone would want wrapping their gifts. The only reason it worked at all was because they managed to convince some of the tri-delts to help in exchange for moving in all their new furniture. “If you don’t help I might be stuck with this thing until the middle of December.” It was a mild exaggeration. The latest shave date was the 8th but that one was happening in The Commons and Sebastian would be damned if he was exposed to that level of public humiliation.

Blaine considered his options. Thought about the way the hairs prickled his skin. Wondered what it would feel like when they kissed. What it could feel like on the even more sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs. Then he looked at it again and imagined what it would look like after a month.

Without further consideration he reached into his satchel, pulled out his checkbook, and wrote out a check for $250.

“Here,” he waived it between them before setting it on Sebastian’s desk.

“You’re a peach.” Sebastian grinned wide and cheesy that had Blaine smiling despite himself.

“You need to stop spending time with Quinn,” he grumbled as he allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed.

Of course, Sebastian later argued, his bearded phase was nothing compared to Blaine’s fedora obsession during spring of their sophomore year. He, at least, was raising money for a good cause.  

* * *

There was, in the dark recesses of their history, one failed attempt at an actual date. It wasn’t talked about and they both pretended like it was completely forgotten, although they cringed in the privacy of their own minds whenever they actually had occasion to recall it.

It happened back over spring break of their sophomore year at Tina’s insistence. Tina was Blaine’s best friend from high school who was overly invested in Blaine’s love life. She had joined them on their trip to Miami and within a day had become convinced that Blaine and Sebastian would make the perfect couple if only they would give it a try. 

After 27 solid hours of her not-so-subtly hinting and even less subtly nagging and Hunter’s girlfriend promising to buy Sebastian’s drinks for the entire week just to  _shut her up already, god,_  they found themselves sitting in a mostly empty, highly questionable looking movie theater in a part of the city that neither of them was really sure they were supposed to be in. 

The theater, as they discovered after 20 minutes, specialized in artistic foreign language pornography. 

"You are definitely not getting any tonight," Blaine grimaced, eyes hidden behind his hands as the camera focused between the very unclothed, very widely spread legs of the lead actress. "Or possibly ever again," he added as she started moaning in Spanish and touching herself. 

"I told you we shouldn’t have listened to Santana," Sebastian said before muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘devil bitch’. They waited another 10 minutes with the vague hope that a man would show up and the entire thing wouldn’t be a complete waste of time but when she reached for a conveniently placed and weirdly phallic-shaped candlestick they were out the door before her exaggerated moan even ended.

“Who does that?” Blaine whimpered, scrubbing at his eyes as though he could scrub away the image away. “It’s so… so unclean.”

“I need a drink,” announced Sebastian, grabbing Blaine’s hand and directing them into the nearest restaurant.

The dinner wasn’t even worth talking about. Although Blaine would forever claim they were the best fried green beans he had ever had and Sebastian was pretty sure he’d never been made a stronger drink.

Or maybe they were just trying to justify their decision to go there after spending the next 32 hours alternating between clutching at the toilet bowl and whining on the bathroom floor.

* * *

In the beginning Blaine spent a lot of time assessing whether or not he was secretly in love with Sebastian. Fuck buddies was not really a position he ever thought he would find himself in. He liked romance and holding hands and while fantastic, steamy sex was great, sex that actually meant something was better. 

But there he was having the best sex of his life with his best friend and the only time hand-holding ever even crossed his mind was when they were trying to worm their way to the front row at a concert and it was the only option to keep Blaine from getting hopelessly lost and trampled into the beer and god-knows-what-else soaked floor. 

The longer their arrangement progressed, the less he found himself wondering what it would be like to actually date his best friend. He couldn’t possibly imagine staring across a candlelit table at Sebastian, unless that table was at Mon Ami. And seeing a movie with him just wouldn’t be the same without Trent and Hunter throwing popcorn at them whenever they got bored of the plot and decided to make out instead. 

And the idea of actually spending the rest of his life living with Sebastian? Sure, they’d probably become roommates once they finished college. If Sebastian wasn’t living in Sigma they’d probably already be rooming together. And if anyone else was Sebastian’s plus one at his first work party Blaine would probably throw a fit but that was only because his life didn’t offer anywhere near enough opportunities for formal wear.

He liked what they had and wouldn’t want it to change for the world. All their attempts at Call of Duty marathons that rapidly turned into seeing who could make the other come the most  before they were disturbed because there was just something about the combination of the way Sebastian held the controller and the way he concentrated on the screen that drove Blaine abso-fucking-lutely insane and there was just something about Blaine that made Sebastian wholeheartedly believe that that any minute that he wasn’t touching him was a wasted one. 

It was good, what they had. The sex. The not-dates that actually weren’t dates. Waking up together but also (mostly) being able to go days without seeing or talking to the other.

No real obligations, no hassle. Just them.

* * *

“Come on,” Blaine urged. “Almost there.” He wasn’t actually sure that he was the best person to be supporting Sebastian’s weight. Not when his best friend might as well be a giraffe and they had almost the same amount to drink.

“Sleep here,” Sebastian announced, beginning to bend down on what he seemed to think was a soft looking patch of grass.

“Nope.” Blaine dug his heels in, forcing them both to stay upright. “Squirrels will eat your face.”

Sebastian carefully considered this. “Like my face. And yours. Don’t want that.”

“Then let’s get home.”

“So smart. ‘s why I love you.” Sebastian pressed a wet, smacking kiss to the top of Blaine’s head.

“Love you too, buffoon,” he said as Sebastian’s legs got tangled up with each other and almost sent them pitching forward.

Sebastian smiled, embarrassed and gleeful. “Cool.” 


End file.
